


Is there one to come?

by UnicrownR



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Cosette And Enjolras Are Siblings, M/M, Modern AU, also is a little angst with a happy ending, but enjolras is on erasmus in london, grantaire and ponine are italian, les amis are french
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 00:34:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16923261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnicrownR/pseuds/UnicrownR
Summary: The photo appears on the tenth of May.In the picture, Enjolras is smiling, arm outstretched as he takes the selfie. His golden hair is almost shining in the sunlight, surrounding him like a halo. A man is leaning on him, his face half hidden by Enjolras’ shoulder, half by his dark curls. The only visible feature is the hint of a big, bright, smile.The caption under the picture reads “babe”.Courfeyrac almost has a heart attack.(In short: Enjolras goes on Erasmus in London, meets fellow Erasmus student Grantaire, from Italy, and falls in love. Unfortunately, it's his first relationship, and in fear of screwing everything up, he doesn't want his friends and family to know about them, but he's clueless about the consequences of this choice on Grantaire)





	Is there one to come?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!  
> This idea was born out of the boredom of a German lesson, and it took me months to actually write it.  
> Furthermore, english is not my first language, so I wouldn't have been able to publish this without the help of these people, to whom I am deeply thankful:  
> @[neiljostensmh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualbluesargent)  
> @[Jackcrutchies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackcrutchies)  
> @[Thatoneartyishperson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeanvalvernairdienjoleponius/pseuds/Jeanvalvernairdienjoleponius)  
> @[omundovaigirando](https://omundovaigirando.tumblr.com/)  
> Check out their accounts, they are all amazing!  
> I hope you enjoy the first chapter! Updates will be a little irregular since work and university are sucking away my inspiration, but I will try my best.

The photo appears on the tenth of May.  
In the picture, Enjolras is smiling, arm outstretched as he takes the selfie. His golden hair is almost shining in the sunlight, surrounding him like a halo. A man is leaning on him, his face half hidden by Enjolras’ shoulder, half by his dark curls. The only visible feature is the hint of a big, bright, smile.  
The caption under the picture reads “babe”.  
Courfeyrac almost has a heart attack.  
He sits on the couch, the phone forgotten in his lap while he stares at the white wall in front of him. When Combeferre comes back from the supermarket, he finds his boyfriend like that, motionless.  
“Are you alright, Courf?” he asks, after an initial state of worry, calmed by the fact that no symptoms of aneurysm were showed.  
“No. No I’m not,” the boy answers, slowly. Combeferre joins him on the couch, waving his hand briefly in front of Courf’s eyes.  
“Care to tell what’s going on?”  
“Enjolras has a boyfriend. He’s gone to London for a year and he’s got a boyfriend. And he hasn’t told me.”  
“Oh.”  
Those two letters are enough to make Courfeyrac understand. He regains the ability to move and raises abruptly from the couch. He eyes his boyfriend accusingly. “You knew!”  
Combeferre has the grace to look guilty.  
“Oh my God. You knew. And you didn’t tell me.” Courfeyrac’s tone is wounded. Combeferre sighs.  
“I’m sorry… Enjolras didn’t want me to tell anyone.”  
“But why?”  
“He didn’t tell me… He just wants his privacy, I guess.”  
“How long?” Combeferre looks Courfeyrac in the eyes, bracing himself for the reaction.  
“Four months and something.”  
“Four bloody months?!?”

Enjolras is fighting with a lecturer the first time he sees Grantaire. The moment his gaze meets two amazingly deep green eyes, he loses his train of thought. The lecturer is luckily still shocked by Enjolras’ passion and vehemence, so he has time to recover and finish his argument before excusing himself rapidly.  
He heads to the door that leads to the university’s yard, where a young man is leaning casually against the wall. He has an unruly mass of black curls that frames his face, where the lightly tanned skin is covered by a dark stubble. His nose is slightly crooked and his eyes are circled by incredibly deep shadows, but those light irises that got Enjolras’ attention are fixed on Enjolras’.  
For once in his life, Enjolras finds himself at a loss for words. What is he supposed to say? How can he casually start a conversation with a stranger? I think you’re really beautiful doesn’t sound good, and neither does I saw you from the other side of the room and couldn’t take my eyes off of you.  
When he reaches the other man, though, he doesn’t need to say anything.  
“Ich kenne nichts Ärmeres unter der Sonn' als euch, Götter…” he says, and Enjolras’ first thought is that this stranger has a nice, deep voice. The second is something along the lines of what the fuck is going on?  
“What?” He manages to say, «I don’t speak- German…?»  
“Yeah, it’s German… I panicked and said the first thing that was on my mind. Sorry about that.” The brunette says, breaking the eye contact.  
“Are you from Germany?”  
“Oh, no, I’m from Italy. It’s Goethe. A quote, I mean,” he stammers, sounding almost shy now. Enjolras can feel his own curiosity winning over the instinct to just nod along.  
“And you were casually thinking about Goethe? In German? Do you study literature?” he asks. The other man smiles, and there is something in that expression he doesn’t quite get.  
“No, I’m studying fine arts, but I was thinking about Goethe’s classical period. When I saw you I couldn’t think of anything else. You’re quite similar to Prometheus, from what I’ve heard,” he says, pointing to where Enjolras had been talking to the lecturer with a slight movement of his head. He seems lost in his own thoughts, though.  
“But you look more like Apollo, you know?” the brunette adds, a few seconds later.  
Enjolras looks at him. He understood basically nothing of what the other had said, but he sure is quite impressed. He offers his hand.  
“I’m Enjolras.”  
“Grantaire, nice to meet you.” They shake hands and Enjolras can’t help but notice how strong his grip is.  
“So… what does Prometheus have to do with all of this?” he asks, breaking into a smile while Grantaire starts to laugh.

“You have to tell me everything about him,” Courfeyrac whines as soon as he is able to pick up the phone. Enjolras sighs, looking at where he has left his almost finished paper about Nietzsche. A paper that, he has to admit, would have been impossible to finish without Grantaire’s help. They had fought at least ten times in three days, but without Grantaire’s insight on the philosopher Enjolras disliked so much, he couldn’t have turned in a paper that was just as great as his others.  
Now, with Courfeyrac on the phone, he knows he has no chance of going back and finishing the last two sentences, unless he talks about Grantaire. He loves his friend with all his being- he has known him for basically all of his life- but Courf has flaws, like everyone. One of them was the gossiping.  
“Look, Courf, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you anything, but that was exactly what I wanted to avoid... all the gossip and the fuss. It’s not something-”  
“Don’t you dare say it’s not something special! You have a boyfriend for the first time, Enjolras! And I know that I can be a little- excited, but... I really would have liked to know. Cosette too, I believe.”  
Enjolras knows that. His sister sent him three very angry texts and called him twice, then she went completely silent. That was how Enjolras knew he was screwed. He is able to deal with an angry Cosette, not with an offended Cosette That was why he decided to answer Courfeyrac first.  
It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk about Grantaire. He just doesn’t like all that attention on his personal life. Yeah, Grantaire is his first boyfriend - something that Grantaire himself knows and finds incredibly cute - and Enjolras is afraid to screw everything up, even though he doesn’t want other people to know that. So he doesn’t want to talk about the relationship with other people, especially his friends. He doesn’t want build up any expectations for them, but mainly for himself. In four months he hasn’t even called Grantaire his boyfriend in front of other people.  
“Alright, what do you want to know?” He can practically hear Courfeyrac beam on the other side of the phone.  
“How did you know that you wanted to be with him?”  
Enjolras sits on his bed and closes his eyes, thinking back to that day.

Grantaire is an annoying little shit. Actually, not so little, since he is six feet tall, but the concept still stands.  
He and Enjolras have quickly become friends: Enjolras finds Grantaire incredibly intelligent and he has never found himself bored since the day he met him. If they’re not studying (with all the art, history or philosophy puns Grantaire cracked as a background), Grantaire is dragging Enjolras along on some adventure. They go to various museums, movies, shows… Grantaire shows him his favorite drag queens, his favorite bands, and is willing to follow Enjolras in what he likes: going to rallies, lectures on climate change and so on. Those usually cause the arguments, though.  
Grantaire is constantly disagreeing with Enjolras, on everything: Enjolras tries to raise awareness on climate change? Grantaire is there, arguing that humans are inherently lazy and selfish and would rather die than change their attitudes. Enjolras takes part in a rally against a right wing party? ‘Taire is there to tell him that it won’t change a thing. After months of knowing each other, Enjolras is sure that at least half of the time it’s just for argument’s sake, but he can’t tell when. When Enjolras starts a paper on Marx, they fight ten times in one day, ending up locked in their own apartments without talking to each other. The next day, however, Grantaire brings him coffee before the beginning of the lessons.  
“How do you know how I like my coffee?”  
“I have ears, E.” Grantaire laughs “This is what you order whenever we get coffee.”  
Enjolras feels something spark inside his chest. He remembers something that small? That isn’t the moment he realizes, though.  
The moment he realizes he wants to be in a relationship with Grantaire isn’t a particularly special day. It starts fairly normal and proceeds to be so until after lunch, when Enjolras texts Grantaire.

 **Enj:** I feel like visiting a museum  
**Grand r:** Count me in! Where do you want to go?  
**Enj:** Idk… I haven’t seen the maritime museum yet  
**Enj:** and the Tate Modern, but I don’t like contemporary art  
**Grand r:** Excuse me what?  
**Grand r:** you didn’t like any art before we went to the national gallery, so we are going to the Tate right now  
**Enj:** I have the right to my own opinion  
**Enj:** no sir  
**Grand r:** you have the right to your informed opinion  
**Enj:** I hate you  
**Grand r:** :kissing_heart:

Enjolras does, indeed, end up at Tate Modern. Most museums in London are free, so even if he doesn’t like the visit he won’t have wasted his money. And, frankly, he is kind of looking forward to it.  
He still can’t stand contemporary art: he hasn’t changed his mind in the hour that took him to get ready, join R and get to the museum, but he knows how passionate Grantaire can be about art.  
After the first rally they want to as friends, Enjolras seriously considered getting some distance from Grantaire. He wasn’t used to that level of cynicism, and he started wondering why they were even friends.  
Luckily they had scheduled a visit to the National Gallery the same day, right after the rally, and Enjolras didn’t feel like cancelling.  
It was in front of “Sunflowers” by Van Gogh that it happened. Enjolras was frowning, as usual, not getting art that much.  
“I don’t understand why this painting is so famous. I mean, yes, it’s nice, but?” he said, blinking almost dumbly in front of the canvas. Grantaire, next to him, shook his head.  
“Art is a subjective thing. You like what you like, and every work speaks to you differently. But here… Van Gogh was unable to play down the emotions while painting. He felt so strongly that he couldn’t avoid pouring everything in his work. He rejected conventional principles of art, and he couldn’t even conform to the impressionist style, so he created something that was only his own. Every stroke had meaning for him.” Grantaire’s eyes were fixated on the painting. His voice, already low, got even softer “Did you know that he ate yellow paint to poison himself? Nobody appreciated his art or him as a person. He was considered a madman. Well, he was schizophrenic, but in the end he only wanted to be happy. He died alone and broke. If only he could see this now…” he murmured.  
Enjolras stared at him, speechless, mouth gaping. Grantaire’s eyes were shining, looking at the painting with something that grazed on devotion.  
After a second, Grantaire snapped back to reality and turned to Enjolras with a bright, playful smile.  
“There’s a Doctor Who episode about this!”  
Enjolras ended up watching the episode with Grantaire, crying his eyes out and buying a print of those goddamn Sunflowers.

Yes, Grantaire likes to define himself a cynic, and Enjolras can’t deny that he is, in many ways. But when it comes to art and literature, Grantaire has just as much passion as Enjolras has for politics, just expressed in a different way.  
So Enjolras isn’t too disappointed about the visit at Tate Modern. He still can’t understand why people would consider a cut on a white canvas art, but he is willing to try, if Grantaire is there to show him.  
“You can’t tell me that this is art, Grantaire.”  
“Oh yes, Apollo, yes it is.”  
“It’s a white canvas for fuck’s sake!”  
A German tourist glares at Enjolras. Grantaire raises a hand in apology and drags Enjolras at the end of the room.  
“You’ll get us kicked out of the museum…” he chuckles, in a low tone. Enjolras rolls his eyes.  
“Anyway, Ryman is a genius-“  
“I could have done that.” at that, Grantaire raises an eyebrow.  
“Oh, could you? And why didn’t you?”  
“Because it’s stupid! Isn’t art supposed to represent something?”  
“And in a society that cherishes more the winners of Big Brother than education, that makes people who had a sex tape leaked more famous than writers and artist, what can Ryman represent?” Enjolras widened his eyes. “Nothing, Enj. There is nothing to represent, because this is what society is made of: the void of ignorance. Ryman is saying that he, as an artist, has nothing to show us because that’s what we are! He is indirectly asking the viewer to come up with something better, because in the face of the times we live in, artists can’t say anything else.”  
In that exact moment Enjolras knows he has fallen for Grantaire, and he has fallen hard.  
“You wouldn’t have thought about that, but he did.” Grantaire pauses for a second, then smiles. Enjolras’ heart skips a beat. “If you were an artist you would have probably come up with something similar to Jenny Holzer’s work.”

Courfeyrac stays silent for few seconds.  
“Wow. Wow, you are so gone for this guy.” he chuckles softly.  
Enjolras bites his lower lips and feels his cheeks burning.  
“Yeah… anyway, got a paper to finish. Bye Courf!”  
“No wait! I haven’t asked-” Enjolras hangs up the phone. Grantaire emerges from the bathroom, rubbing a towel on his head.  
“You fell for me while I was ranting about Ryman?”  
“I thought you were taking a shower?”  
“I was; I’m done now.” Grantaire smirks, sitting next to his boyfriend. “Do you know when I fell for you, Apollo?”  
“No, when?”  
“The moment our eyes met.”  
Grantaire’s gaze is locked on Enjolras’ eyes. Enjolras feels his breath stop between his lips.  
After two seconds, they break into smiles, and then into pure, uncontrolled laughter.  
“That was so cheesy,” Enjolras breathes, through one fit and the other. Grantaire nods, unable to stop laughing.  
Once they calm down, Enjolras slides a hand between Grantaire’s wet curls, and surges forward until their lips meet. Grantaire kisses him, his hands cradling his face with the same passion he spoke about art, and with just about the same devotion.  
  
**Cosette; to “Les Memes”**  
My brother will bring the boyfriend home when he comes back from London  
**Jehan; to “Les Memes”**  
putain  
**Joly; to “Les Memes”**  
Enjolras has a boyfriend???  
**Courfeyrac; to “Les Memes”**  
instagram jolly  
**Joly; to “Les Memes”**  
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
**Bahorel; to “Les Memes”**  
And we don’t know anything about this guy?  
I need his instagram  
**Courfeyrac; to “Les Memes”**  
Enjolras didn’t share any social media… and the guy didn’t comment under the picture, so he’s basically a ghost!

To be fair, Enjolras never said that he would bring Grantaire home. When he finally worked up the courage to call his sister, she picked up the phone and her first words were:  
“You either bring him home, or I’ll come there.”  
In the end, she got out of him everything she wanted to know, and when they hung up, she was back to being her usual, cheery, sweet self.  
Enjolras leaves Grantaire’s bedroom once the phone call is over, and finds his boyfriend in the living room, in front of a canvas, shirtless.  
“Was she mad?”  
“Yeah, but it was fine in the end. She calms down quickly; she doesn’t like to stay mad. Says it’s bad for her skin.” Enjolras jokes, leaning on Grantaire to kiss his bare shoulder.  
“Why are you shirtless, anyway?”  
“I didn’t want to stain my shirt while painting.” Grantaire turns his head to give him a peck on the lips. Enjolras is about to ask what he’s painting when his phone rings. He raises his eyebrow, fishing it out of his pocket. When he sees who’s calling, he has a little heart attack. He looks at Grantaire, panicking. His boyfriend answers with a confused stare. Enjolras picks up.  
“Hi Dad…” he says.  
“So you found a boyfriend and you are bringing him home?” Jean Valjean asks, in French, in his booming voice. Enjolras turns immediately red. He apologizes with a small gesture to Grantaire and heads to the other man’s room.  
“What? No- I don’t know what Cosette told you but- no, it’s nothing serious Dad...” his voice fades as he shuts the bedroom door, failing to see the hurt in Grantaire’s eyes.


End file.
